


Remain Seated Please (Permanecer Sentados Por Favor)

by permetaform (ladywinter)



Category: Live Free or Die Hard (2007)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-26
Updated: 2011-01-26
Packaged: 2017-10-15 02:30:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/156103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladywinter/pseuds/permetaform
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wherein John McClane does not keep his arms inside the moving vehicle at all times and Matt learns how to hang on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Remain Seated Please (Permanecer Sentados Por Favor)

**Title:** Remain Seated Please ( _Permanecer Sentados Por Favor_ )  
 **Rating/Pairing/Fandom:** PG13, John/Matt (Live Free or Die Hard)  
 **Disclaimer:** Not mine, not making money. Some lines quoted directly from the movie.  
 **Warnings:** Violence, Slash, and John McClane. Contains spoilers for the movies.

* * *

  
"All you gotta do is go pick up a _kid_ in New _Jersey_ , and just drive him down to _D.C._ How hard can _that_ be, huh?"

The kid nearly got himself killed again, he thinks. Goddamned cocksucking assholes, he thinks, stalking through the ruins of the toll tunnel, glancing at the twisted heaps of cars. Trying to trap us with oncoming traffic from both sides, he thinks, slamming himself into a cruiser, starting the car.

Just a small shitty favor, they said, dragging a wetbehindtheears kid panicking his motherfucking way through three states since John was there _anyways_ after failing at keeping his daughter away from yet another cocksucking _asshole_ who he can't even call cocksucker to his _face_ , damn Holly, damn visitation orders. ( _He stares at the ground racing by, hanging from the door...this is such a bad idea._ )

MotherFUCKER, he thinks, hitting the ground rolling, shoulder scraping into asphalt, saying howdydo to the floor with his face.

The car slams into the helicopter.

* * *

"Oh my God," he says.

That was so _cool_ , he thinks, as he runs towards that crazy-ass detective.

"Jeesus, you just killed a helicopter with a car!" he stumbles out.

"I ran outta bullets," McClane says, banged up and bloody and the laughter scratched thoroughly into him.

Matt stares. In the past few hours he had been shot at and chased and what've been his _life_ had been blown to bits, and the absolute unreality kept him all floaty in a sense of denial which insisted that 1) he was watching himself from a place far far away and 2) a sandwich would be Really Awesome.

But right now? Right now Matt has never felt _possibility_ so keenly outside of a computer, outside of a game, outside of a hack. He has just seen McClane make an Impossible Thing happen and it feels like he just took his very first breath, spat out of the Matrix ( _tingly, and wired_ ).

Like he just chose the Red Pill.

He crouches in front of the guy and gulps in air that tastes of grit and acrid smoke and coppery blood, of heat and sweat and the fresh taste of late morning. He can't help looking at McClane, can't help touching ( _failing at helping_ ) him and can't help thinking _wow_ and his amazement falls out of his mouth despite himself, even as he hauls McClane off the ground, as he grabs a monitor cloth from his bag, as he tries to staunch some of McClane's bleeding and wiping the blood from McClane's face and kissing McClane when McClane held up a warm hand against---ohshit.

Matt lurches back.

Oh my _god_ , he thinks; that was totally uncool, he thinks. He turns quickly away, and tries to control his breathing through the fist around his lungs.

"Ha, um. I--I tripped?"

Matt winces. He's _so_ really dead. He can't believe that he just kissed a _guy_ \--and one that could kill him. He waits for a police cruiser to be catapulted at his head.

Looks forward to it, even.

* * *

At that moment, several things fly through John's head.

1) That was unexpected.

2) That was unexpectedly nice.

3) This is no fucking time to panic about _how_ nice that was...

4) ...which is where the kid needs -- _Matt_ needs-- to get with the program.

John McClane is first and foremost a Do-er. It's how he survives, and it's how he gets the job Done. However, Matt is getting himself into a Don't headspace, which the kid apparently finds comfortable since he spent half of their fucking tri-state fieldtrip to DC whisking himself into that sort of a useless frenzy.

Dammit, John thinks, and grabs Farrell and yanks him close with a shuffle-skid-crunch of loose asphalt, the curve of the kid's jaw jumping-tense-warm in his hand he turns Matt's face towards him, got one glimpse of Matt's wide and inward-blank eyes before he catches Matt's surprise in his mouth and swallows the sound.

Well damn, John thinks, Matt's mouth wide and warm, tasting more fresh than any air he'd breathed in _years_ , flicking the roof of his mouth had the kid _jolt_ in a shiver that runs down both of their spines. He follows the shiver with his palm down Matt's back and the kid breaks into a gasp that separates them. _Holy_ god _damn_ , John thinks, looking at Matt, whose face now was a bit flushed, but calmer, and whose eyes were finally Looking at him.

He takes a deep breath. Matt takes one too, low and loose not high and tense.

"Okay, see this right now?" John growls and pokes the kid in the chest, "This is Not Panicking. You're gonna have to Not Panic and _grow a pair_ until people stop trying to kill you because panicking will make you do dumb shit things like jumping out of the _car_ into _oncoming traffic_." John glares at the kid who now looks a bit ashamed and confused but...still not-tense.

"That--" the kid catches a breath, "That's bullshit! You totally admitted you were afraid on the drive!"

John grimaces. "Scared doesn't equal panicked, kid." He rubs at his head tiredly, only smearing blood around to his disgust. He swipes his hand on his pants, eyes the kid, and says, frustrated, "At this point, being outright scared might make you less panicked."

Matt blinks.

"Now come'on, I'm not gonna wait around for more bullshit and we need to get to the station." John starts moving them towards the fence that currently blocks them from the surface streets. "This," he gestures between them, " _later_."

The kid's all confused and stuttery, but follows gamely.

Farrell makes noises about getting him to a hospital. He snorts and has to sit down for the laughter. ( _Probably bruised a rib, there._ )

"Sexy, right?" he grins.

Matt wobbles as he stumbles over the debris and he says, "no," too quickly, like it was already on his mind.

John McClane smirks, rises, and steadies Matt with a hand on the back. He hopes the kid won't be too distracted and braces himself for what he already knows is Another Long Day. He's almost but not really surprised at the shit going down; it's been a coupla years now and way overdue.

* * *

Matt, to say the least, had not been prepared for a Long Day. He sits in the car and marvels that he is _here_ , doing this _thing_ , to save the _country_...that was so massively fucked up due to what amounts to a lark of his and some easy cash. He never thought that what he did could get so large so fast and affect so many people. It humbled him at the station, watching the people he'd helped screw over, and it made the guilt claw at his stomach. He feels too small to be an evil mastermind and not hero enough to fix things.

He says as much to McClane.

McClane scoffs, and talks about being a hero and what that gets you, he talks about eating alone and a family that hates him and eyes Matt. Matt remembers,  


>  _when they were in the alleyway, bricks and buildings rising on either side, a small echo-y space where John yelled at him to use his brain,_ and then he Did  
> 

John talks about being the only one with the ability to do something, looking wry and amused, voice a deprecating grumble.  


>  _and when Matt pulled the information John needed, from a phone and a not-yet-defunct network, the gruff low-key awe in the guy's voice when he asked,_ "How do you know that?"  
> 

Matt had never felt capable enough to change the world ( _deep down he'd never quite finished feeling invisible_.) It seemed insurmountable, the galling futility of fighting against the corporations and The Man, the idea of a single person capable of doing any good laughable, let alone it being _him_  


>  _and when Matt said he couldn't, McClane insisted that he_ could _, insisted and yelled and bullied and then...then_ **asked** _Matt to goddamn find a way, and suddenly there **was** , like the world tilting into place._  
> 

Matt has a sinking-feeling that he's going to get shot at again. The sinking-feeling feeling perversely like he's cresting the peak of a rollercoaster, terrified.

Hmm.

He has a feeling, too, that he's being bullied, asked ( _begged?_ ) into being a hero. Somehow he never thought that being a hero means that you're this. Fucking. Afraid.

They arrive at Middleton. And John is all violent and capable and Matt finds himself capable too. Despite the mantra of "Oh holy SHIT" one part of his brain chants, the rest of it did what he could do, what he _needed_ to do. He found himself succeeding at slowing the shutdown, succeeding at dodging bullets and the asian chick and other flying things, at wham-ing the guy ( _trying to shoot up McClane_ ) with a pipe.

Matt peers down the elevator shaft. Crazy mofo was still alive, dangling from an elevator cable, the truck exploding beneath him. _Inhuman_ , he thinks admiringly, breath catching.

McClane barks out laughter, in victory, still not dead.

* * *

John hopes that he remembered enough from the flight classes, going through the takeoff sequence and riding out the scattershot ache all along his left side (and select parts of his right side, and certain portions of his middle). Possibly less hurt because Farrell slammed that guy taking shots at him into the elevator shaft, and possibly more because he'd been shielding Matt in the van from the blast. _But the kid did good,_ John mentally shook his head, _pulled through when needed_. Farrell knows too much for the years he'd lived (and doesn't know them in all the right places) and, before John met him, looking at Matt's information and D.O.B., John expected someone more...tired, and dead in the eyes, aged. ( _Empty gazed. Like that hacker girl._ )

It took almost the entire drive to D.C. before John was convinced that Farrell wasn't faking it.

The helicopter rises.

He notices they are very very high up in the air and makes fists with his toes in his shoes. He notices Matt taking his advice about the panicking. They ride out the adrenaline with little comments and barbs and John glances over. Too young, and too pretty, John tamps down the urge to run fingers down Matt's jaw again. Hands are busy anyways.

But that makes him snort.

He thinks, I'm too old for this shit.

 _Fuck it_ , he thinks, and swallows. "Listen Matt," he lept in, "About that kiss,"

"Huh?" the kid's visibly caught off-guard, "I--it was--I mean it--"

"Just..." he says, wishing he had a hand free to stop Matt's stuttering, "Shut up for a minute, okay?"

His mouth clamps shut.

"Now, as far as I see it, you have two options." He eyeballs Matt into silence again. "One, call it adrenaline and pretend it never happened. Or two, It Happened, we fuck and we see where it goes." He's kinda proud of his nonchalantness (even if it was a bit forced); his therapist would probably be proud of his honesty.

Matt gets very red. "You're doing, asking this Now?! I thought when you said 'later' you meant---"

It takes John half a moment and then his grip tightens on the controls as he suddenly gets the image of Farrell's hair all feathery across John's thighs as he's licking a long line up John's cock while John's trying to fly the damn _helicopter_ and,

"Jesus _fuck_ , do you _see_ me asking you to go down on me _now_?" Matt's blush creeps down his neck and John's ears feel hot. He takes a breath, makes sure the chopper is still steady, " _Christ._ Later."

For sanity's sake, he doesn't dare check to see the look on the kid's face. John doesn't think he's ever felt so old, and so delighted-horrible-dirty. Especially when he's trying to be "adult" about this.

"Look, just letting you know it's _your_ choice, your option."

"To...you know..." Matt makes a vague hand gesture.

John blew out a breath, "Kid, if you can't even ask for it, you're not old enough--"

"I'm not a--"

"--And you don't know what you're getting yourself into," he finished harshly. "If you want to stick around, chances are you're gonna get a target painted on your back--"

"How can you--"

"--like that asian 'chick' I killed." John quirks a half-smile, "She was probably sleeping with the head honcho."

Matt falls silent, looks at the large splotch of dried blood on John's shoulder.

"Tell me after it's all over, once you've seen everything," John grumbles, "'Cause it's gonna get worse." ( _He continues, in a lower tone, " **I'm** gonna get worse."_ )

"Worse? How could it get any w---you know what?" Matt shakes his head. "I'm not gonna ask."

John chuckles with something halfway between amusement and wry resignation.

"Fine." Matt huffs. He looks down at the lightless city, his body held like he's looking over the edge of a skyscraper; ironic, because there is no actual structure to support them. "How can I even tell when it's all over?"

Matt looks at John, full of wide-eyed alarm and questions, and John feels ancient. But John realizes just then that he also feels wildly, wildly young. Had been for awhile. Huh.

"When is it 'later'?"

And John smiles at that, at him, sideways. "Easy," and John lets himself chuckle, "I'll finally be sitting my ass in a hospital."

* * *

Matt thinks he must still be kinda high from surviving that helicopter landing ( _without injury_ ) as he watches John poke around Warlock's domain.

He thinks this as he continues fielding Warlock's questions and feeling awkward and not entirely sure who of the two people in the room he's trying to kiss up to more. He realizes in a somewhat sinking way that he's not really handling Warlock in a particularly cool, competent manner. He realizes, also sinkingly, that John's being an utter asshole and Warlock's gonna hate McClane and he tells himself he's wishing so hard they'd get along because it's _better_ for the _country_. No _really_.

Matt watches McClane verbally attack and physically intimidate Warlock into helping them. ( _Warlock does his magic and, as always, Matt's all sorts of impressed and busy trying to memorize shit over Warlock's shoulder._ )

Matt watches McClane harrass Gabriel, buying Warlock time, viciously ragging on the dead hacker girlfriend with total and absolute non-political-correctness. He watches Gabriel harass John, threatening his daughter, watches a line of angry-tense muscle on John's neck, clench and relax, clench and relax.

Matt watches McClane storm out the moment Warlock pulls up the location ( _Woodlawn_ ), and is surprised to _**not**_ hear McClane order him to follow. And he doesn't really hear McClane order him to stay. ( _Not really an order_ )

He realizes heading out the door, with something approaching awe, the quiet no-pressure invitation McClane is giving him, as well as the no-pressure 'out'. Realizes that in this way, too, he's being given the option. He realizes outside the car, looking at that muscle clench and relax, that John is willing to let Matt be safe rather than making him be...( _a hero_ )-- rather than making him fix the shit he'd help cause.

 _McClane's useless around the tech_ , Matt thinks.

Matt gets in the car.

He's almost but not really prepared for the running, the falling, and the being shot at, and the feeling like his heart's gonna push out of his chest with its pounding so hard. He's twitchy with energy but does the best he can and despite getting caught he's satisfied when he'd managed to encrypt the info Gabriel's spent months trying to get. ( _John had talked non-stop about hostage situations and leverage on their drive to Woodlawn and Matt's nothing if not a quick learner._ )

He's pushed into a chair next to John's daughter, who's, hey, kinda hot. Matt is very sure that he's running on the drunkenness comprised of no food, very little sleep, and way too much adrenaline; a super-frenzied state vaguely reminiscent of his freshmen finals only with more violence and not nearly enough Red Bull. He is sure, somehow, that McClane's still alive. Ridiculously injured perhaps, but alive. He looks at Lucy, who's more pissed off than alarmed, and knows she thinks the same. He's just, instead...worried. He knows his job now is to keep them both alive, or McClane's totally gonna kick his ass.

"You know, you probably shouldn't antagonise them, seeing as they have these loaded guns."

She tells him to grow a bigger pair, and it makes him smile. ( _Because, yes, he's learned what an order from a McClane sounds like in the past twenty four hours, but he didn't know that it came with the family._ )

They arrive at the warehouse.

Matt stalls.

And he gets shot, as Gabriel proves his point.

 _Buy time_ , he thinks, as Gabriel holds the gun on Lucy, his leg burning in wet dribble trails, lancing shocks, _ohgod what if he can't walk again_ , he types as slow as he could fake it. He types random keys and restarts decrypting it several times. He'd might ( _probably_ ) die if he finishes, if he stalls longer, if he bleeds out, if Lucy dies but she's not _allowed_ to. _Buy time, buy time, come on John where are you?_.

And John McClane comes, guns blazing, and Matt's ready when the gun falls his way and when John pulls the trigger, Matt trusts that Gabriel's dead ( _or getting there_ ) so shoots at the guy who'd been holding Lucy. Thank _god_ he didn't hit her. John would've _**killed**_ him.

And then it was done. The Bad Guys down, and Matt stares at the gun in his hand. One of them by him ( _killed_ ), maybe.

Fat lady singing, or perhaps that's the pain.

After the calvary comes, Matt tries to head over to the McClanes but he mostly just falls over.

* * *

 _Farrell should know he did good,_ John thinks, using Lucy request as an excuse to see him. He ambles over to Matt not entirely knowing what to expect. He hopes Matt has a sense of discretion.

The paramedic moves away for a bit. Eh, he thinks as he speaks to Matt, loopy, but still clear-eyed.

"You know," John leers, "chicks dig scars,"

"Really?" Matt raises his eyebrows, glances towards _Lucy_.

"Not... _that_ one," he mutters flatly.

"What?" Matt says.

And then goes on talking about his _daughter_.

John eyes him with something like violent disbelief, he can't quite tell if Farrell's joking or not. When John blames it on the morphine, Matt breaks into a grin then smiles up at the van's ceiling with something like pretend innocence.

John grumbles, a smile playing out despite himself. "After all we've been through, I'd hate to have to beat you to death."

Matt grins at him, bright.

They are both very aware of the paramedic, finishing up and hovering. "Listen, take care of yourself and...I'll see you at the hospital."

John doesn't look at him when he says this, and Matt turns his face away at the reminder. This...might be the last time they speak like this. He doesn't think so, but just in case John pauses and makes sure that Matt understands that he did good.

He walks away.

Does not look back.

He sits, carefully.

"So, umm, did he say anything about me?"

"Geeesus Lucy--" He groans. _This one's mine_ , he thinks, _if I'm lucky_. He's lived so often by the grace of some higher power that he has to admit he's feeling hopeful. Also, if he can read people at all, and some thirty years in the force suggests yes, then he thinks that Matt might have the balls go for it, for him. He lets out a small smile, that twitches and threatens to grow bigger.

"The hospital," he tells the paramedic.

* * *

Notes: beta'd by runefallstar. Written most of this way back when and found it again.


End file.
